Aftershock
by Dream Horizon
Summary: All actions have consequences, some immediate, some delayed. The brothers find out the hard way that just because the demon is defeated, it does not mean that they have escaped unscathed. SFTCOLARS Summer Fic challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Aftershock**

**Summary**

All actions have consequences, some immediate, some delayed. The brothers find out the hard way that just because the demon is defeated, it does not mean that they have escaped unscathed.

**Disclaimer**

Unfortunately I still do not own anything to do with Supernatural – I'm not sure I could be trusted to behave if I did!

**Author's Note**

This is my SFTCOL(AR)S Secret Santa Summer Fic for **Angie4** – Please accept my sincerest apologies, Angie, for this not being finished to deadline but will only be a few chapters long so no long waits! I hope you don't mind but I am hoping to combine your three plot ideas – won't go into them now as I don't want to give too much away! I hope this is ok for you, please let me know if not as I can always change subsequent chapters…

Thanks to Gem for her super fast beta-ing and her patience. Any fic of mine is infinitely improved by her generous and talented involvement!

**Warnings**

There may be the odd naughty word creeping in here and there… Oh and will refer to episodes up to and including the Season 2 finale so if you haven't seen them and don't want to be spoiled, please go no further…

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**Chapter 1**

Sam was tired.

God, it felt as though he had been tired for an eternity; a bone-chilling weariness that seemed to seep into his soul.

He tried to pinpoint when this sensation had started, even though sometimes, it felt like it had always been part of him. Had it been as early as when Jess had died? He had felt the exhaustion of despair and depression then, but this, _this_ was different. Had it been with his first vision, when he had realised that normalcy was a dream now out of reach and withheld from him?

Or perhaps when Dean had revealed their father's secret and Sam had finally understood that his fears were that one step closer to reality?

No, the young hunter's well-trained mind was focussed, this time the hunt within himself. He clinically thought back over the last two years, and there it was.

No, the first time he had felt this was after Meg's possession. Since then, there had been an, icy core deep inside that seemed to be leeching all warmth and strength from him. He'd suppressed it as much as he could, sometimes even completely. But now, it wouldn't be ignored.

He fought the urge to close his eyes. Dean had left him alone in the car while he had gone into the mini-mart for supplies, and he didn't want to be sleeping when Dean came out, didn't want to look like anything was wrong at all.

Dean's mood had lifted since he had killed the yellow-eyed demon and now they knew that their father's soul was no longer residing in hell. Despite his deadline, _and isn't that an apt turn of phrase,_ Dean had regained some of his light heartedness and optimism. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders and like hell was Sam going to put it back there because he couldn't cope with the after-effects of a possession.

He couldn't let Dean down again. It was his fault Dean was in the position he was in now. If only he had been stronger and had killed Jake in the first place instead of turning his back like some green, doe-eyed civilian. And as always, it was Dean paying the price for his weakness.

He relished the return of his confident and enthusiastic older brother. It had been a hard year for both of them, but particularly hard on Dean.

Dean had lost the father he had adored and revered and who, in the end, had sacrificed himself for his son. Guilt for his father, shame for what he believed was an unequal bargain and anger for the same had eaten away at him.

On top of that, he had the burden of a secret that should never been laid upon him, that he had to save his brother and if he could not, he'd have to kill him. The pressure of that burden alone was debilitating. He could never relax. Fear that his failure would condemn a brother he had sworn to keep safe from harm haunted him, the terror that one day, a fate he could not protect Sam against would overwhelm him.

And his defence mechanism, his belief in black and white, that good and bad were distinct and defined had been stripped from him.

_And it's all my fault._

Oh, Sam had been angry at first for Dean keeping his secrets, first their father's, then his own, but that had only lasted briefly. After all, Sam knew about keeping secrets. Especially those that were meant to protect the ones he loved. He had still not told his brother of what the demon had shown him, that their mother knew a damn sight more than they had ever believed about the supernatural world in general, and their own personal demon in particular.

_What was the point in telling him?_

Both the Demon and Mary were now dead. It was a secret that held nothing but pain for his brother, who idolised the memory of his mother. Dean who had only been recently reminded of what could have been, of a mother's love, by the djinn.

Sam felt his eyes begin to close again and he jerked back in the seat, startled. He hissed as the sudden movement cause a searing pain along his spine. His back still burned, a hot spasm in stark contrast to the cold chill he felt trickle down the nape of his neck.

What was he thinking? _Sleeping?_ He had a year, just one year in which to figure out a way to save his brother. No, he had to suck it up and get on with the hunt.

Screw the demons; he had a brother to save and a lifetime of debt to repay.

The cold seemed to spread, penetrating and pervasive, and he reached across to turn up the heater.

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Unknown to the younger hunter, Dean was watching surreptitiously through the large glass windows of the mini-mart as he paid for their goods.

Sam was tired. Exhausted, really.

Then again, it wasn't that long since Sam had been _**dead.**_

It had to have taken a lot out of him; maybe a vacation would do them both good.

But they had at least a couple of hundred demons on the loose, hardly the time for a vacation.

_And how did Sam know how many had escaped?_ Dean hated his mind sometimes.

But if there was one thing that Dean had learned, it was that there was always another demon – he only had one brother.

His brow furrowed as he watched Sam slide further down in his seat, curling in and hugging himself as if he were cold. It was mild and sunny day, and when Dean had left the car, he had been roasting. He'd even loitered around the chilled section to cool off.

And if that great-looking chick that had followed him in all too thin t-shirt had walked down here, what of it? Pure coincidence.

Dean's shook his head as his eyes caught Sam leaning across to fiddle with something on the dash. Sam seemed to feel the cold more these days; his already broad shoulders were continuously wrapped in layers, making him look even larger but, at the same time, smaller. Like a little boy swathed in clothes two sizes too big for him.

It reminded the elder brother of when they were young and Sam had been sick bundled himself in Dean's clothes. Dean had once described germs as tiny monsters that cast curses on you that made you ill. So Sam had rationalised that since Dean fought off monsters all the time, then his clothes would keep the germs away and he would get better quicker. Sam's tiny frame would be dwarfed in his big brother's clothes, sleeves flopping over his hands and sweaters that reached his ankles, and he would snuggle up against his brother's chest and demand a story.

Dean had always been good at stories. From telling teachers how he and Sam had received their sometimes all-too-visible bruises and injuries to why their father couldn't make the parent/teacher meetings. From convincing impertinent motel clerks to wait an extra day until John returned from the hunt to pay the bills, to distracting the girls at the checkouts while Sam stole food or nurses when they needed to raid medical supplies.

He was a master of tall tales and a weaver of truths and half-truths to create a believable lie.

But the ones he took most pride in were the ones where he seemed to almost magically ease Sammy's fears and take him away from any physical pains and upsets. His rendition of the Three Blind Psychic Psychotic Mice had helped Sam forget his fear of thunder and lightening. Snow White had also received the Dean treatment with Demonic Dwarves and the Hunter as the hero, with Snow White always represented by their Mom…

Sam had been enthralled as a kid. Huge brown, expressive eyes peering through a mop of dark, curling hair, had been wide with wonder; peeking over the edge of the covers he had drawn up to his nose in fright or pressed against his mouth to muffle the giggles enough so that John would not know that they were still awake.

Dean would weave them into the stories, too. It was John who killed the Big Bad Werewolf that was terrorising the Prigs, though it was Dean who saved any damsel, battling dragons and slaying monsters, with his trusty sidekick little brother forever at his side.

Whenever Sam had complained about being the sidekick (which, if Dean were honest, was hardly ever), Dean would simply tell him to be thankful he hadn't been made the damsel.

After one particularly spectacular tantrum, though, he had, and for a whole month Sam had been called Rapunzel. That was, until Sam shaved his hair off in attempt to prove he wasn't a girl.

Dean's soon learned how much Sam looked up to him and that he was a kid of action, (he was a Winchester, too, after all) when he had come to find Sam sitting tearfully amongst his shorn locks on the floor of a grubby motel bathroom, his head covered in tiny nicks where he had struggle to shave the back.

And then John had come home and given Dean a tongue-lashing on responsibility and taking care of his brother; how as older brother he should know better than to tease and should act as an adult. Sam had been reprimanded for being too soft, but it was the sight of his big brother's eyes, bright with unshed tears, that had had the required effect on his sensitive sibling.

What story would ease his little brother's fears now? What tale could he tell to whisk them back to a time more innocent, when they could defeat monsters with wooden stick swords and dustbin lid shields, and at the end of the day, they were always safe?.

Back to the time where the heroes always won and the bad guys defeated in the nick of time?

Dean realised he had zoned out in the store and the cashier was looking at him strangely. With absentminded charm, he flashed a grin at the girl, who coloured under his gaze. He turned and hurried back to the car.

The sun, although starting to set, still held enough warmth to dispel the lingering cold from the freezer section, and Dean was unprepared for the blast of heat that hit him when he opened the car door.

"Christ, Sam are you a snake or something?" He reached across and flicked the

heating down.

He glanced across at his brother, who hadn't even stirred, still huddled towards Dean's side, knees drawn up and arms hugging his chest. But he was breathing steadily and didn't seem to be in any distress and Dean was loathe to wake him.

On the other hand, his brother would have one hell of a crick if he didn't get him to change position soon.

"Sam?" Dean moved to shake him when his phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Bobby? You missing us already? You know someone could accuse you of being a bit clingy."

"Dean?" the older hunter's voice was brusque and business-like. "Is Sam ok?"

Instantly, Dean's neck prickled and he glanced across at his brother as if to make sure he was still there. "He's fine, he's asleep, why?"

"We've been getting some reports." Bobby hesitated. "Look Dean, it might be best if you and Sam head back here."

"It's not like you to beat about the bush, Bobby. What's wrong?"

"Do you remember Julia Morgan?"

"Who?"

"The girl possessed by the Crossroad Demon?"

"Yeah?" Dean thought back to the traumatised woman left after the demon had fled.

"She's dead."

"What? How?" He thought they had saved her.

"We don't know. She just sickened and faded away. The docs are mystified. It was just as if the life slowly drained out of her."

"But you have a theory." It was a statement of fact, not a question. Dean's voice hardened as he looked across at his sleeping brother. "And what does it have to do with Sam?"

"She was possessed by a demon, Dean."

"And? No, wait. Sam was only possessed for a week by Meg. Julia Morgan was possessed for years."

_I've just got him back…_

Dean's heart started to pound.

"Just keep an eye on him, Dean. I know, I know, you always do. And it could be that Julia just couldn't move on from what happened. God knows what she went through, or what the demon put her body through - it simply could have just wore her out. But I'll keep digging, just in case."

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean looked across at his brother's slumbering form. Was it him or was Sam looking paler? He put a hand against his brother's brow. No sign of fever; in fact, his skin was quite cool.

Sam opened his eyes and looked blearily up at Dean, his eyes confused but trusting.

"You ok, Dean?" he mumbled, raising one hand to rub sleepily at his eyes.

The gesture reminded Dean of a far younger version of his brother. "I'm fine, Sam. That was just Bobby, inviting us over."

"Wha' for?" Sam mumbled, but smiled. He liked Bobby. With him, Sam always knew where he stood, and there were few other hunters left they felt they could still trust.

"Well, obviously, I leave a huge hole in anyone's life when I leave, Sammy. You on the other hand just leave huge holes in their property."

"Dude, that's not fair. I was possessed."

"I was thinking we could do with a break, so why don't we go see him?"

Sam glowered at his older brother, but Dean pressed on. "And before you say anything about not having time, we can research as easy at Bobby's as we can anywhere else, and he can help. Plus he has all those archaic reference books you get turned on by."

Sam rolled his eyes, mumbling huffily "fine" before snuggling back down. "Wake me when it's my turn to drive."

Dean watched Sam curl back up, his face still turned toward his brother as he fell quickly back asleep.

_There's nothing wrong. That Julia chick was just unlucky…_

He pretended not to notice when Sam shivered slightly. _There's nothing wrong…_

_There can't be…_

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**A/N**

Hope this is kind of what you were hoping for Angie, if not, please let me know. Again, I cannot apologise enough for this not being fully completed for today, I hope you can forgive me.

Any reviews are appreciated, cherished and eagerly awaited – thanks for reading!

Oh and anyone awaiting my outstanding fics, When Angels Fall will be updated this week, as will What We Have, We'll Hold. Life has been frantic and unfortunately I have not had the time I would like to devote to these.

Apologies to all who have waited patiently and my deepest gratitude to those who read my stories, (much love to those of you who take the time to review also!)

Hugs

Dream


	2. Chapter 2

**Aftershock**

**Summary**

All actions have consequences, some immediate, some delayed. The brothers find out the hard way that just because the demon is defeated, it does not mean that they have escaped unscathed.

**Disclaimer**

Unfortunately I still do not own anything to do with Supernatural – Nor did Jared or Jensen come for my birthday…pouts…

**Author's Note**

This is my SFTCOL(AR)S Secret Santa Summer Fic for **Angie4** – Hope this is ok sweetie!

Thanks to Gem once again, and thanks to anyone who reads this. Hugs and heartfelt appreciation to mollieclarke, friendly, elemental-sparky, namedone, leavingslowly, exitlight and sammygirl1963 for taking the time to review!

Now I'm sure someone before me called Bobby's dog Zeus, but I cannot for the life of me remember who, to ask permission to use it. Thank you for naming him so aptly and I hope you forgive my presumption in using the name here, however if you rather I didn't please let me know and I will change it!

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**Chapter 2**

They arrived at Bobby's late the following day. By then, Dean had almost managed to convince himself that all that was bothering his brother was a cold. Heck, his immunity had to be shot to hell, given that he had died, been brought back, and had been running himself ragged ever since,

Sam had been burning the candle at both ends -- shit, he had chopped the candle in two and was burning himself four ways to hell.

He was up most of the night these days. Oh, he would let Dean nag him to bed every once in a while, but he was always up well before Dean woke.

On the odd times that Dean had woken during the night, he would be welcomed by the eerie glow of the laptop reflecting on Sam's ever-paling face. The dark circles under his brother's eyes weren't just circles any more; he looked like a raccoon, or like someone on the losing end of a bar fight.

No, the kid needed this break. Dean's face broke into a relieved smile as Bobby's yard came into view.

Nothing had changed; it was still the ramshackle place where old rusted heaps came to die.

But it was also a place of resurrection, Dean thought to himself, hoping to avert his unintentional jinx. Nothing was coming to die here.

It was here that Bobby had saved the Impala, it was in this yard - under the older hunter's and his young brother's watchful gaze - that Dean had regained a little of his balance and some solace after his father's death. They had recovered Sam from Meg's grasp here. This was a good place, an almost pseudo-home where he and his brother could lower their defences and relax a little.

A white and grey bundle of fur came hurtling from the cover of a truck to the left as Dean pulled in front of Bobby's house.

A young husky just barely out of puppy stage, all gangly legs and poor co-ordination, barrelled into Dean's legs, almost tripping him as he climbed out of the Impala. The adolescent dog bounced up and down impatiently, trying to lick anything that came into reach.

Understanding it wasn't going to get the attention it felt it deserved, the puppy turned from Dean and ran clumsily around the front of the car and sprang on the emerging youngest Winchester.

Dean grinned as he watched the puppy dancing around Sam; the dog reminded him of someone…

Sam's face broke into an unexpected grin at the young dog's antics and he nearly overbalanced bending down to stroke the now ecstatic dog behind its ears. The dog promptly flopped over on its back to get its stomach tickled, and Sam burst out laughing as it batted his hands with oversized paws.

"I see you've met my ever-vigilant new guard dog." Bobby's tone was laced with equal amounts of disgust and barely disguised affection.

"I think you're losing your touch, Bobby. That or you're getting soft in your old age. I seem to remember a time when your dogs wouldn't _dare_ not to do what they were told."

"Yeah, well I remember when a certain pair of young tearaways used to do what they were told, too." Bobby growled. "Grab your gear; I've put you in the room out back."

At Dean's questioning look, Bobby frowned and mumbled, "You're normal room's already promised out."

"Who to?" Dean wasn't sure he liked the idea of there being someone else here – he may not know them and the likelihood of trusting any other hunter was remote. He had learned that lesson the hard way with Gordon.

"Missouri's staying for a couple of days, and it was the only room with its own bathroom. She should get here tomorrow."

Dean nodded, unaccountably relieved. The psychic rubbed him up the wrong way occasionally, but she had a knack of seeing to the heart of things sometimes.

The grizzled hunter and elder brother looked across at the youngest Winchester, who was completely ignoring them, sitting on the ground, playing unabashed in the dirt with the puppy.

The Husky had fetched a length of scraggy rope to play tug of war with, and Sam had laughingly obliged. He looked, for a moment, younger than he had in years, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. He pushed it back with dusty hands, leaving a smear of dirt across his cheek and brow. He was still laughing, a broad grin on his face, deep dimples now lifting the lines of weariness that seemed to live there. Sam's eyes were bright and sparked with life and for a moment, both Dean and Bobby caught a glimpse of a young man they had never fully realised they had been missing.

"_You_ can clean your brother up; I'm well past the babysitting stage." Bobby growled but a small smile tugging at his lips softened his grumpy expression.

He sobered quickly though, as he changed the subject to a more serious topic. "So, Sam's looking ok, a bit tired maybe?" Bobby looked questioningly at the older brother, the two slightly turning away from Sam.

"He's been a bit off-colour; he's easily tired and seems to be feeling the cold. But he insists he's just coming down with a cold or something. He's worn out; he spends all his time researching, sometimes all night."

"What did you expect, Dean, that he would just let you go? You really don't know what you mean to that boy, do you?" Bobby shook his head sadly. The elder brother still couldn't see his own worth. "You told him about Julia Morgan?"

"Not yet. There's no need to worry him."

"You think that you boys would learn about keeping secrets by now." Bobby sighed.

"If Sam needs to know, he will." Dean replied stubbornly.

"If I need to know what?" Sam had moved silently behind the two hunters, taking delight at taking them both by surprise.

"I am not having the birds and the bees talk again today." Dean smirked to hide his startlement.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's obvious tactic. "Bobby?" He turned piercing eyes on the older hunter.

"Nu-uh, you are not dragging me into this. I've a mutt to feed. Sisyphus!" He called to the dog that was again leaping up at Sam, wanting to resume play.

Dean sniggered. "You're kidding, right?"

"Well, I thought if the dog had to spend any time with the Winchesters, it might as well be prepared for an uphill battle and used to repeating itself needlessly."

"Dude, it sounds like a venereal disease!"

Bobby huffed a little, but didn't deny it. "Alright, Joshua gave her to me. He had already named her and the damned thing refuses to answer to anything else."

"Her? It just gets worse. You do know we'll only shorten it to Cissy don't you?"

"Very protective of their young, bitches are, will defend them to the end. And given that it looks like she's adopted your brother, well, I'm sure you won't mind another set of eyes looking out for him."

Dean turned to see Sam once more being completely manipulated by the dog and once again enticed to play.

"What happened to the Rottweiler?"

"Zeus? Oh he's in the house; he recognises trouble when he hears it." Bobby gestured at the Impala. "And when was the last time you had her serviced, boy?"

"Why do you think we're here?" Dean grinned cheekily at the other man.

A spate of coughing and a started whine behind them made the elder brother spin around to see Sam leaning against a truck, white as a sheet and sounding like he was trying to cough up a lung.

"Sam?" Dean took a hesitant step towards his brother but Sam waved him away, surreptitiously wiping his hand on the dirt of the truck behind him, the dust concealing the specks of blood spattered across his palm.

"I'm fine, that damned cold and the dust off the dog jumping around just set me off, that's all. Knocked me a little dizzy."

"Yeah, well the airs gotta be a bit thin up there, boy." Bobby spoke up, concerned eyes flashing between Dean and Sam. "Let's get inside and get some coffee on. That should perk you up a bit."

Dean grabbed his and Sam's bags and they made their way into Bobby's cluttered hallway. "I'll just take these upstairs." Dean muttered, "Don't worry—I can manage two bags and the laptop just fine on my own." He added for effect.

"You'll get your reward in heaven, bro." Sam called after him, then winced when he realised what he had said.

Dean rather dexterously still managed to flip his brother the bird.

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Sam followed Bobby into the kitchen, failing to notice that Bobby was watching him with hooded eyes.

"So, Sam, you ok?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Boy, you look like shit." And Sam did, now that Bobby could get an unobstructed view of the young man. Sam looked more like a two day old corpse than the fit and healthy man he'd seen just a few weeks earlier.

The young hunter was white, and not just you-could-do-with-a-little-more-sun-and-less-researching white, which god knew he could probably do with as well, but almost bleached. He had lost weight, which was even more obvious given his height. The hollows around his cheekbones looked gaunt, and his once proud shoulders were stooped and sagging with weariness.

Sam's eyes were dark by contrast--not just the tissue underneath, but the skin all around seemed to have an almost yellow tinge, like a freshly-blossoming bruise, and they too seemed hollow. Dark depths spoke of too much pressure and too little sleep and there was more than a hint of desperation in the aged gaze. The boy was pushing himself too hard.

"I'm fine." Sam snapped at the hunter's frank examination. A faint, shamed blush coloured his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Bobby." He sighed and pushed his hair back in irritation. "It's just…" His voice trailed off, the enormity of what he had still to do and how he couldn't fail, causing him to falter.

"I know, son." Bobby awkwardly patted Sam's shoulder as he reached past to grab some mugs. "You boys aren't alone in this, you know."

"I know, Bobby and we appreciate it, really we do. It's…"

"What?" Bobby prompted in an unexpectedly gentle voice.

"I'm running out of time." Something about the way Sam said _I_ instead of _we_ raised Bobby's hackles.

"We've still nine months to figure something out."

Sam hesitated. "I know. So, uh, what were you and Dean on about outside?"

Bobby had hoped Sam had forgotten. _Really, I should know better._

"I think you should talk to Dean."

"Dean is my big brother, and I love him more than anything but at times – well, at times, he is an over-protective, controlling mother-hen."

"I hadn't noticed." Bobby's face crinkled as he fought back a smile.

"And ever since, you know…"

"Since you died?" Bobby offered helpfully.

"You and tact never were on speaking terms, were you?" Sam sounded exasperated but amused.

"Why dance around the elephant in the room, chances are you'll only end up trampled by it."

"There's a fortune-cookie maker somewhere just begging for your talents." Sam grumbled.

"Isn't your brother supposed to be the smart-mouthed one?"

"I'm also the one who raised him, so it's inevitable that some of my better traits would rub off on him." Dean announced as he strode in to the room. "I'm sure I also taught you to respect your elders, Sam."

His brother glared at him. "Actually, I distinctly remember you saying that the older you got, the slower…"

"Is that coffee ready?" Dean interrupted brightly.

Bobby smirked at the two young men in front of him. God, he had missed these two.

Pushing his cap back he watched the youngest one intently as he picked up the mug of coffee. The cup trembled noticeably in the young hunter's grip and quickly glancing at Dean, he noticed the he was also following his brother's movements, hawk-eyed.

They sat for a while talking shop but despite the comfortable atmosphere, Bobby's concern was not eased at all.

Small things begged for attention, like Sam taking two attempts to pick up the coffee pot, the shakiness of his hands, the unsteadiness as he stood to go to the bathroom, the uncharacteristic lack of co-ordination on his way there, bumping against the table, the chair, the doorframe…

All of it spoke volumes that there was something distinctly 'off' with the young hunter.

"Dean…"

"I know…"

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Sam splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

_God, what's wrong with me?_

His tiredness was bordering on exhaustion. He was still shaking from the effort it had taken to get up and walk the short distance from the kitchen to the bathroom.

He leaned heavily against the sink and rinsed more warm water on his face, hoping to wash away the grit from his eyes. He shivered as he looked again at his reflection, his eyes in the mirror seemed to swirl with a sinuous darkness and he flinched back. He peered more closely.

There was nothing there. He must have imagined it.

His shivers grew stronger. _Didn't Bobby ever believe in putting the heating on?_ It was so damned cold in here.

He noticed beads of perspiration on his brow and rinsed his face again. He must have inhaled some water, as he started to cough harshly and felt the bitter, iron tang of blood in his mouth once more. He opened his eyes as he spat into the sink, rinsing his mouth and leaving the tap running.

_Coughing up blood cannot be a good sign. Maybe I should tell Dean?_

But memories of his brother's for once relaxed face and easy smile banished the thought. Dean didn't need any more cause for worry; Sam had already given him a lifetime's worth. _If it gets any worse, I'll speak to Bobby, see if there's a decent free clinic nearby._

He eyed the mirror-image of his face critically. His thinning face was too pale; it would be a dead giveaway. Sam deliberately pinched his cheeks to get some colour back into them and winced. _That actually hurt._

Sam turned to open the bathroom door and as he did, dizziness swept over him. He flung one hand out to brace himself and caught the edge of the sink with his wrist. He stifled back a gasp as pain flared in his hand, matched by a sickening flash of pain that seemed to stab through his right eyeball and straight into his brain.

Long limbs cramped and he folded, smacking his head of the back of the bathroom door.

"Son of a…"

"Sam?"

"Mmf um..." Sam tried to speak, but it was as if his jaw was wired closed. The pain in his eye intensified and it was just too hard to get the words out.

"Sammy?" His brother's voice had rose in concern.

"I'm fine." He finally grated out.

"You don't sound fine."

"I just tripped and banged myself on the door."

"Are you sure you're ok?" Dean's voice was doubtful, and it sounded like he was right outside the door.

Sam forced himself to sound normal. "Positive, Dean. I'll be out in a sec."

"What do you think?" Bobby asked Dean, knowing he wasn't buying it and he was no-where near as close to Sam as Dean was.

"I think my brother is lying."

TBC...

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**A/N**

Angie, hope I am keeping to your prompts and that this is to your liking, apologies for the slow progress but will keep plugging away! Love, Dream xx

Hope there are some folk still reading this fic and enjoying it! If so, please let me know... wow, it rhymes lol...

Thanks again...and see you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Aftershock**

**Summary**

All actions have consequences, some immediate, some delayed. The brothers find out the hard way that just because the demon is defeated, it does not mean that they have escaped unscathed.

**Disclaimer**

Unfortunately I still do not own anything to do with Supernatural – life just isn't fair really!

**Author's Note**

This is my SFTCOL(AR)S Secret Santa Summer Fic for **Angie4** – who by now must have given up waiting on me! I just didn't want to rush your gift , sorry sweetie. Hope you can forgive me! This chapter I found particularly difficult to do, so I hope it turned out all right! To make up to everyone who has stuck with me (huge thanks for that by the way!), this chapter is extra long as an apology for the length of time between updates!

As always, thanks to Gem for her super fast beta-ing and her patience. Any fic of mine is infinitely improved by her generous and talented involvement! Also a massive thanks to Faye whose excellent advice helped me immensely.

**Warnings**

Bad language and our boys fighting. It upset me enough to write but rest assured, it hurts the brothers as much as it pains us! There is a reason for everything I swear, I did not go into this lightly! Please, no flaming!

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**Chapter 3**

Sam pulled himself together enough to be able to leave the bathroom and reluctantly walked back to the kitchen where Dean and Bobby were waiting, only to find himself pinned by almost identical inquisitorial glares from the two elder hunters.

"What, is my fly down or something?" he stalled, joking awkwardly. He knew he looked like shit -- the bathroom had a mirror after all -- but he wasn't ready for concern. He felt unaccountably fragile, as if one kind word would crumble his resolve. He did not relish what he was about to do, but could see no other way.

"Spill, Sam." Dean's voice brooked no argument.

"I'd rather not; these are my only clean jeans." Sam's lips quirked up at one corner, but his pallor gave the expression an appearance more like a grimace.

Dean wasn't easily sidetracked. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't well?"

"I did. I told you that I was coming down with a cold." Sam answered patiently. A truth standing guard over a terrifying lie.

"Bullshit."

"_Dean."_

"Don't _Dean_ me. There's something wrong and you need to tell me. I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong."

"Not everything's your responsibility, dude." Sam needed his brother to accept this fact, perhaps now more than ever. He hardened his resolve and mentally began to catalogue a list of barbs, each a weapon in an arsenal he was going to have to use to drive his brother away. His heart twisted knowing he was setting out to being deliberately brutal, but for his brother's sake, he had to finish what he started. Even if it killed him.

"Everything that affects you is my responsibility, Sam. Nothing you say is ever gonna change that," the elder brother continued patiently.

"I can look after myself!" Sam bristled, easily falling into the old pattern of rebellion. Dean was giving him the opening he needed and Sam hated himself for what he was about to do.

"Yeah, I can see that! Especially when every time I do leave you by yourself something happens." Dean's look was disbelieving and Sam winced at the truth of the statement.

"Is that what you honestly think? That I am some defenceless babe-in-arms?" Sam's frustration earlier now was morphing to anger

"I never said you were defenceless, just…" Dean seemed to hesitate.

"Unlucky?" Sam whispered resignedly. Yeah, you couldn't argue with that conclusion. If you looked up 'cursed' in a dictionary, there would probably be a Winchester family photograph next to the definition.

"Popular," Dean countered. "Dammit, Sam, every time I let you out of my sight, something bad happens to you."

"I managed four years on my own, dude, and I did it without either you or Dad watching over me!" _Right, Sam and look how well that ended_. _Jess dead, your father missing, Dean left feeling abandoned._ If he had stayed with his family, Jess would still be alive. Maybe he would have even been able to help his brother and father defeat the Yellow-Eyed Demon before his family were destroyed. Maybe, had he stayed, Dean would not have been quite as broken, so lost, so desperate to keep Sam alive that he sold his soul.

Dean would not be going to hell for his no-hope, waste of a soul, demon-tainted little brother. It was all too late now, and deep down, Sam himself knew he was too little to make a difference anymore.

The only thing he could try to do now was protect his brother one last time…and hope that Bobby could save Dean from Sam's mistakes.

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"_I managed four years on my own, dude, and I did it without either you or Dad watching over me!"_

Dean, stung and still a little insecure about that time, instinctively struck back. "Yeah, and look how well that ended."

At the suddenly stricken expression on his brother's face, Dean wished that he was back in the alternate reality of the djinn so that his words would remain unsaid to the real Sam. "Shit, Sam, I didn't mean…"

"You're right, I'm a curse on this family and you know it." The young hunter backed away hurriedly before swaying and reaching out one hand to steady himself.

"Sam, wait." Dean grabbed his brother's other arm. He wanted to shake him and apologise at the same time. He wanted to tell his brother that he was proud, so very proud of him and that he understood why his brother went to Stanford. How he knew that their father's at the time inexplicable distancing from his youngest, the pressure he placed on Sam, the constant criticism and expectation of failure, was what had driven Sam away. How he knew that Sam, although a truly accomplished hunter, would never have been happy, that his soul was just too gentle, too compassionate, and that his empathy would be a torture to him in their line of work.

All of that and more, but the words remained lodged in his throat. The selfish side of him that could not let Sam go, not in Cold Oak, or in Stanford, stilled his voice once more. He needed Sam to be safe; he did not trust anyone to watch out for the kid like he could. And a dark, unspoken part of Dean wanted to know that his soul had been sold for something, dammit.

It was strange how a selfless wish could lead to a selfish act. The cold, hard fact was that at the end of the day, Dean didn't want to lose his brother.

"Let go of me. Don't touch me!" Sam grated out in a tone that masqueraded as anger, but sounded suspiciously like pain.

Dean's eyes widened as Sam glared at him with eyes that glittered dangerously. _Or was that fever?_ He reached out automatically to check, only to have Sam flinch away.

He almost growled in frustration. "Dammit, Sammy, I'm not trying to hurt you. You're sick."

"Do you ever listen to a word I say? I told you I was _fine."_ Sam's features took on an expression of weary irritation.

"Well, maybe if you told the truth from time to time, I might know what it sounds like and believe you." _Oh, like Sam wouldn't pounce on that one._

Sure enough. "You're a fine one to preach about honesty..." Sam spat out, bitterness lacing his words.

"We both have had our reasons why we have kept our secrets. And for the record, both of us were wrong." The elder brother was trying to get himself back to something resembling an even temper, but dammit, Sam always could get under his skin like no one else. Not that it didn't go both ways, of course.

"Mighty magnanimous of you, bro." Sam's lips curved sardonically.

"Stop being an ass, Sam." Dean's patience was wearing thin. His fiery temper, never too far from the surface these days, was rising fast.

"Why don't you stop being a control freak? Jesus, Dean, I thought at least now Dad's gone I might have some freedom. Obviously, that's just another character trait you picked up from the old man."

Dean slammed his brother up against the wall of Bobby's kitchen and Sam pushed belligerently back.

"What's the matter, Dean? So, I'm criticising Dad? Newsflash, bro. He wasn't perfect."

"Neither are you!" Dean's mind whirled in a sickening maelstrom of hurt, anger and confusion. What the Hell was going on here? This wasn't Sam. Sure, his brother could be stubborn and pigheaded and passionate in sharing his views, but he was never deliberately cruel. This was more like…

_Meg. Oh god, was that it? Was Sam possessed by that bitch again? _His mind frantically scrabbled for clues.

_Shit…_

Dean glanced at Bobby; the question in his eyes…Bobby mouthed _Holy Water_ and gestured at the kettle. _So, not possessed then._ Thank god for Bobby's standard precautions.

Sam's voice, now harder, continued. "I don't pretend to be perfect, and I don't force my views or way of life on anyone else, either."

"No, you just run off and do as you please! Real grown up, dude." Even with a growing sense of worry for his brother, Dean couldn't help but push back. Dammit, Sam was hitting _all_ the sore spots tonight. _Was this how Sam really felt?_

"Is that what you think, that I run off to spite you, or out of petulance or selfishness? Shit, Dean, why the Hell did you come for me if you hold my actions in such low esteem?" Sam's face had taken on a world of hurt.

"You're my family." Dean was genuinely bewildered; he honestly couldn't think of why Sam couldn't see that. Couldn't Sam see that Dean not only needed his brother, but that he wanted him there as well? Dean had missed his kid brother, not just in the hunts but in his every day life. Sam had made the itinerant lifestyle bearable. The Impala was just a car, a cool chick-magnet of a car obviously, but it was a home when they were together in it.

"No, Dean, I'm your job. Isn't that you say, that it's your job to look out for me? I'm a duty, and an unfair one at that. _You_ don't need _me_ – I'm just the chore Dad gave you while he hunted the Demon."

_Sam was going too far. After everything, how could he say that?_ "What the Hell would you know about family, Sam, or responsibility? We've never been good enough for you! You've been running away from us all your life!" Dean fumed.

"I never ran away from you. It was Dad who pushed me away. And you who just stood there and let him." Sam's voice was laced with bitterness.

"You allowed him to push you away. Jesus, you fought him most of your life, you never obeyed an order you didn't agree with without arguing. And you expect me to believe that this time you caved? That he wasn't giving you the out you were looking for? I may not have your college education, but I'm not stupid, Sam." Resentments and pain long-buried had resurfaced with Sam's words and Dean couldn't bite his tongue any longer, increasing the force of his hold, pushing Sam back against the wall.

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Sam's back pressed against Bobby's discoloured wallpaper. The pattern faded, as had Sam's will to fight. He had to end this soon. "I never said you were. And yes, I wanted to go to college but I didn't want to give up my family either. That was his ultimatum, not mine." Sam was dancing a fine line between keeping Dean angry and distracted, and hurting his all-too-fragile self-esteem. He didn't want to hurt his brother, just piss him off.

"_He _was our Dad and he did his best."

_Maybe he did, Dean, but his best hurt us both. _"He could have given me his blessing. Would that have been too hard? For Dad to have been proud of both his sons? I was never good enough." _Not for him and definitely not for you._

Dean released his hold on Sam and began to push himself shakily away. The feeling of anger in the room now muted and worn, defeated by the same old arguments that Sam was using to goad Dean's temper. _Let him hate me, please. It will be easier for him in the end._

"C'mon dude, that was just Dad's way. He was trying to toughen you up, make you…" Dean was clearly struggling for a way to put thoughts into words that wouldn't add even more fuel to this already spiralling argument. And Sam's heart broke for him.

"More like you?" And maybe his heart broke a little for himself. For the knowledge that as _Sam_, he would not be able to save his brother, that he would have to become something he was not. And for the certainty that he would never be able to be the man Dean was. _I'm not even as human as Dean is, never mind anything else…_

As if from a distance, Dean's voice completed his unfinished sentence. "No, try harder. You never put your heart into it!"

"How could I when I could see that the hunting was only ever going to end was when it got you and Dad killed!" Sam's biggest fear, out in the open for all to see.

Although it seemed Dean didn't really get it, old insecurites obscuring the depth of feeling in Sam's admission. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, man."

Sam brought that part of the conversation to a close, the feelings too close, too painful. "Look, all I'm trying to say was that college was never going to be forever. There would still have been weekends and holidays and then after I graduated, you'd literally have had a family lawyer to bail you guys out. To be a family doesn't mean we have to live in each other's pockets, or be forced to life another's life. I just wanted to have a choice."

"Oh, if I'm cramping you style Sammy-boy, just say." The elder brother's face hardened.

"Don't be so fucking oversensitive!" Sam ground out, beyond frustrated. It was all going wrong. He'd wanted to piss Dean off, not tear him down.

"Right, so caring about my family is being oversensitive. Here I thought it was called _loyalty._"

Sam closed his eyes tiredly. This was taking its toll and if he were honest, he hated fighting. He'd hated fighting with his Dad, and more than anything, he hated fighting with his brother. It was just at times, with everything pulling him in so many directions, the only way forward was to push back.

And the thought of pushing his brother away made Sam feel physically nauseous, "I just want you to look after yourself, too, for a change." The youngest Winchester spoke quietly.

"I'm not the one seconds from falling on my ass!"

_And they were right back where they'd started._

"I'm fine, it's just a cold, that's all." Sam remained determinedly elusive.

"A cold doesn't make you shake like that, or stagger about like a drunk three sheets to the wind." Dean gestured towards his unsteady brother.

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Bobby stood, watching them like a tennis umpire, his eyes going back and forth, lips tightly closed. No way in hell was he gonna be caught up in the crossfire of these two. Even the almighty John Winchester knew better than to come between the two brothers.

"You're a doctor, too, huh?" Sam's lips curved slightly, mocking.

The younger brother swayed, the colour draining from his already pale face and his brow become pinched with pain, making his lie that more obvious.

Dean felt his anger drain away with Sam's colour and he stepped closer to his ailing brother. He buried the anger as he had buried many of his emotions during his life. He had learned at a young age to assess and prioritise, to put aside his feelings when something of greater importance arose. And there was nothing more important to him than his brother's welfare.

"Sam, tell me the truth, _please_. Let me help."

"Help, how? You going to invent the cure to the common cold? It's _nothing."_

"If it's nothing, it's easily fixed." _Argue that logic, Sam._

"Have you listened to yourself, Dean? You can't fix everything!"

"Says you." _Great, we're nine._

"You're not God, bro."

"Pretty damned close though." Dean smirked.

"You certainly act like you think you are. What you going to do, sell your soul for me? Oh, I forgot, you already did. Great bargain by the way, bro."

To Dean, it was the worst thing Sam could have possibly said. "You selfish son of a bitch." All humour was wiped from the elder Winchester's face.

"I'm selfish? When you're the one who sold his soul to bring me back, even after Dad, when you knew how it feels?"

"At least you're alive to feel." This was the most important part in Dean's mind.

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"_At least you're alive to feel"_

The words pushed Sam to the brink.

"Did you ever stop to think that I was better off dead - that I might not have wanted to have been brought back? That everyone else might be better off if I wasn't?" Sam bit his lip. Damn, he'd never meant to say that.

"What??" Dean yelled out in shock.

Too late now to hold them back, Sam levelled the final blow. "You were only thinking of yourself, Dean, when you made that bargain and you know it!" Sam turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

Sam hesitated at the top of the stairs, fighting the urge to go back down and apologise to his brother, to explain that he didn't mean the words he had said. His eyes burned and he swallowed convulsively, choking down the urge to call to Dean. No, he had to do this. Sam knew he wouldn't be able to hide his ailment for long, and if what he suspected was happening was true, he had to keep Dean away. Far away. Already, he was losing control.

The burn in his eyes had spread to his chest, and his lungs heaved at the pressure building. He unsteadily made his way to their room, unshed tears hanging from his eyelashes as he furiously blinked to clear his vision. He grabbed at his bag on the floor.

_I shouldn't be here…_ He choked back a sob. He clapped one hand across his mouth to muffle the traitorous noise and sank heavily down. Sprawled across his bed, he grabbed a pillow, burying his face into it as he fought a losing battle with the emotions threatening to drown him.

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Dean's jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around the edge of the table, quickly turning white with the pressure. His chair rocked back as he stood suddenly and began to move stiffly towards the back door.

"I'm impressed." Bobby spoke softly.

"What?" Dean snapped at the older hunter.

"That boy sure knows what buttons to press."

"What the Hell are you going on about?"

"You think he meant any of that?" Bobby's eyebrows rose in surprise and then lowered in dismay at Dean's expression. Dean _had _believed, that was obvious. Now, Bobby had to point out what Dean was to close to it to see. "You notice he never answered your question and then got you so fired up you were just about to leave to blow off some steam?"

It took a moment to sink in, but it was obvious when it did; Dean's face was a picture as he suddenly realised that he had been royally manipulated by his little brother. If Bobby hadn't spoken, he probably would have gone out for a few hours until he cooled down. And what had Sam been planning to do then?

"That sneaky son of a bitch." Dean turned one hundred and eighty degrees and headed for the stairs. "I'll beat the truth out of that sly, oversized geek if I have to."

As the elder brother reached the top of the stairs, though, his anger faded. He could hear what could only be muffled sobs coming from his and Sam's room, and moved closer; needing to know what had pushed Sam into a truly rare display of emotion.

"Sam?" He could hear the hitch to Sam's breathing, sure sign that his brother had been crying for a while.

"Sam!" He called out again, louder, hoping to not startle his brother, to give him a moment to compose himself and maintain some dignity. That, and Dean did not wish to see his brother's tears; they had seared his soul too much already.

Dean could see from where he stood uncertainly in the hall that Sam was lying with his back to the door, shoulders shaking, face buried deep into the pillow that was held tightly in his arms. Fists were bunched and cradled over his head, and Sam's long and normally sprawled form was curling into a tight ball, his knees near his chest, his whole body trembling.

Uncertainty fled as Dean responded reflexively to the sight of his brother in obvious distress. He moved towards the doorway, and as he did, the door suddenly slammed shut, barely missing his face and smacking painfully against his right foot.

"SAM!" He rattled ineffectively at the door, which refused to budge.

Heedless of the fact that this was Bobby's house and that it may have just been a stray gust of wind from an open window, _like that is ever all it is,_ Dean slammed his shoulder against the door. An instinctive fear was shrieking like a silent alarm deep inside; something was wrong, something was trying to keep him from his brother. That and the residual anger and adrenaline from the argument had left him wanting to physically lash out at something.

Better the door than his brother.

He bounced back as if the door was made of a far more resilient wood. _Or maybe steel._ _Shit_,_ that hurt._

He tried again, and it didn't even give a little. It was only when he paused to catch his breath, that Dean felt the chill, the sweat from his exertions cooling rapidly as goose bumps rose up on his arms.

"Sammy! Bobby, get your ass up here!" He hollered.

"Dean, what's going on?" Dean whirled at the voice behind him. Bobby could sure as Hell be quiet when he wanted to be.

"Something's in there with Sam! It shut the door in my face and now I can't get the damned thing open."

"Impossible. This place is better protected than Fort Knox."

"I don't care how well it's protected, I know what I saw." _What I felt._ "The temperature plummeted. Look, you can even see your breath."

Bobby dipped his hands in his pockets and rapidly began to pull out various items - a small book of Latin charms, a flask of holy water, and several packets containing a white substance…

"You always carry this stuff?"

"Do bears shit in the woods? Both me and your Daddy drilled you boys about always being prepared, didn't we?"

"Yeah, though I find it hard picturing either of you as boy scouts." Dean muttered as he snatched at the items.

The two hunters quickly tried several incantations with varying involvement of salt and holy water. Banishment rituals and memorised chants and charms, invocations and cleansing rites were tried – and all failed miserably. If anything, with each attempt, the temperature continued to fall. Now, they couldn't even approach the door without some unseen force pushing them back.

Dean was becoming frantic. Some unknown and obviously powerful entity was in the room with his brother, who was particularly emotional and likely, physically vulnerable, and would perhaps not see any danger coming until too late. Sam still hadn't answered, even though Dean kept calling to him, Bobby's voice occasionally joining in. Who knew what was happening to him behind the closed door?

_This is my fault; I should have followed him up straight away. _

"I'll go get more supplies." Bobby muttered and moved away. Dean reluctantly followed him, his eyes staying firmly on the door as if by will power alone, he could breach the barrier that separated him from his brother.

Just then, as he turned to leave, there was a soft click and the door slowly opened behind them.

Sam's sobbing had long since quieted and now the room was eerily silent. Bobby not- so-discreetly pulled a gun from the back of his waist band. They could see Sam's chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. Despite all of the ruckus, the youngest Winchester was sound asleep.

Dean quickly scoured the room for any intruder, any sign that anything was amiss. He heard a beeping whirr come from next to him.

Where on earth had Bobby pulled that EMF meter from?

Bobby quickly scanned the room and signalled an all clear to the elder hunter. The air had returned to a normal temperature and Dean quickly walked the room. _No cold spots_, _either._ The window was firmly closed and there was no trace of sulphur.

Reluctantly, Dean came to the conclusion that the threat, whatever it was, seemed to have vanished.

He turned back to his brother. "Sam?"

The younger hunter automatically turned his head towards his brother's voice. Dean could still see the remnants of Sam's earlier distress, his brother's face still flushed and puffy, dried tear tracks like scars on his face. Sam frowned slightly, but his eyes remained closed, rapid movements behind the lids the only other movement in the room.

"Sorry, Dean." The words sighed past swollen lips where he had obviously been biting to stifle his tears.

"It's ok, kiddo. You weren't exactly wrong, either." Dean admitted in an unexpectedly gentle voice, the bed dipping as he sat beside his sibling. One hand tentatively reached out and then fell back to his side, allowing the warmth from his proximity to provide the comfort his brother needed, without the admission of weakness.

"Don't leave me, Dean. There's something wrong._ I'm_ wrong." Again, Sam's eyes remained firmly closed and Dean fought the urge to brush his brother's mop of hair to one side.

"Sssh, don't say that. Whatever's wrong, we'll beat it." The words of the demon haunting them both, that he had brought his brother back wrong, tainted, that maybe something had come back in his place or _with_ him.

He felt Bobby's eyes on him and turned to the elder hunter. "What?"

"You're talking to yourself, Dean."

Was the old man losing his mind? Or maybe just his hearing. "No, I'm talking to Sam."

"Sam hasn't said a word, son." Bobby's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Something had been bothering Dean, and now, looking back at Sam, he realised what it was. Sam had been speaking, albeit whisper-soft and low, but clearly.

And his lips hadn't moved at all.

_Shit…_

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**A/N**

Hope you are enjoying this, apologies for the huge delay, this was not an easy chapter for me to write, and I'm still fretting!

The argument, especially, upset me greatly. But, both boys have their reasons for what is being said, and all is not quite as it seems!

Please let me know what you think!

Love

Dream

xx


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